The rainy season
by conejitoasesino
Summary: Lucius Malfoy turnscoat but loses it when his son is threatened.left a broken man can he be rescued by a mere muggle? LMOC, poss LMSS.this is a writting excercise so please review, critiques welcome. rated M for later chapters.


Two weeks had past from the day that Albus dragged a half dead Death eater through my front door. "For the sake of the Order ,Alicia, keep this man alive. Oh, and I brought you some chocolate frogs." How could I argue with that? And really, how could I argue with my Uncle Albus.

Uncle Albus. It still made me laugh; remembering the day I caught my grandmother in _flagrante delicto _with the sorcerer on my 13th birthday. Traumatic to be sure; more so due to the fact he was still wearing his pointy wizard's cap. On the day of my birthday no less! And thus, to keep me from informing to my mother of my sweet grannies extra curricular activities, I was introduced to the wizarding world. Eye opening to be sure. Soon "that old wizard dude" became my Uncle Albus and the image of a bobbing wizard's hat was replaced with long distance quidditch viewing and the best candy I'd ever had. But only half a year later the honeymoon was over; grandmas latest "gentleman friend" was kicked to the curve in favor of a younger model. Poor Albus.Pleasantly enough for me, since he was my favorite of all grandmas boyfriends, I'd continue to see my loved Uncle Albus as I grew older. I'd receive anonymous packages of candy and weirdly interesting books. And every once in a while I'd find my television tuning in to exciting quidditch matches featuring some of the most exotic and obscure teams probably ever seen. I can proudly say I'm probably the only muggle that saw Nigeria's underdog team beat the beloved Bulgarians. He'd come visit me at school too, wearing the most ridiculous outfits. I'd take to him to get ice cream and he'd quiz me on muggle current affairs. He always wanted to know what celebrity was shacking up with, dumping, and cheating on who. He said the Prime Minister never told him those things. Later I realized they were more recognizance missions than gossip gatherings. It was during my high school years that the Dark Lord had began his campaign of terror and Albus was checking to see how it was affecting the non wizarding world.

Later in college, I would take him shopping for better muggle clothes and HE would fill ME in on the latest wizard world gossip. It was a quiet and peaceful time and Albus wore the open and robust expression I remembered from his days with my grandmother. He was there with me when she passed; breast cancer. And also when my mother died; car accident. My mother's twin sisters moved to the states and since I had no idea where in the world my father was I was left alone in England. This suited me just fine. I'd always been independent. I had a good paying job as a computer technician which provided me with enough money and time to pursue my violin playing hobby. I had good friends and even a on and off again performing schedule with some of the local bands. But, it was nice to infrequently see Uncle Albus. He'd been around for so long that I sometimes forgot he wasn't really an Uncle; just some man my free spirited grandmother picked up at a Halloween party one night. So when my Uncle Albus half carried the bloodied and bruised Lucius Malfoy to my house I knew exactly who he was and who the Order was. And I knew that if it was important to the Order, it was important to me. I couldn't refuse. Well, I could have said no and Albus would have politely accepted and been on his way. But I was my grandmother's daughter and would never turn away a man in need; even if he was a notorious Deatheater. And strangely enough, I owed Lucius a favor. But I was pretty sure not even the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore knew about that particular incident. No one knew about it. So, I calmly told Albus to leave everything to me and accepted the dread Deatheater Lucius Malfoy into my home.

For the few days he could barely stand on his own feet. He fell unconscious at inopportune moments and barely ate or drank anything. I cared for him the best a computer geek could and dressed his many wounds. I poured the potions Albus had given me down his throat and sat at his bedside , once my own bed, through the night like I imagined a good nursemaid would. Whoever had gotten hold of Lucius had done quite a number on him. Albus had told me a while ago that several Deatheaters had been detained at Azkaban but a stay in the wizard version of maximum lockdown would not have caused the type of damage Lucius had sustained. His mind perhaps, would have been shattered, but not his body. Lucius was wounded everywhere. His back was nothing but tenderized meat. It looked, to my untrained eye like he had been repeatedly beat with a long solid object, like a bat or a cane. The marks extended down the length of his back past his buttocks to mid thigh. His feet and hands were raw and blistered, like they had been held over an open flame. He had probably been shackled as both his ankles were chaffed terribly. And his throat and wrist showed sings of rope burn. His chest had large blue and black bruises all the way down his ribs and hips. And his face, belly and the tops of his thighs were crosshatched with long thin welts; the kind that are left when a woman rakes long nails across skin. His mouth was blistered and cracked as if he'd been made him swallow something caustic. His slate blue eyes were ringed in black and there was a nasty gash on his temple. The only thing not damaged on his body was his hair. This caused me no amount of consternation since it was waist long and got into everything. That first night it had taken me hours to first pull it out of the wounds down his back, then clean it and detangle it. I considered hacking it all off but the man was all ready in such miserable shape I couldn't bring myself to lob off the shimmering, white hair. He had suffered enough without the added humiliation of a sheared head. I knew Death eaters were supposed to be violent and cruel but no one deserve to be beat as badly as he was. I settled on giving him two tight French braid down the sides of his head. It actually looked cute, if you ignored the haunted and swollen eyes, the broken nose and bleeding mouth. I'd gotten into the habit of falling asleep in the papasan chair I'd dragged into the bedroom. He was extremely thin and weak as a newborn calf , and I was afraid he'd hurt himself trying to lunge out of bed onto legs that couldn't support him. I found myself often startled awake by muffled cries only to see Lucius sitting bolt upright in bed, a look of terror and pain across his angular face. He'd stare past me with haunted eyes and struggle to free himself from the tangled covers, intent on escape. I'd rush to him, words of comfort spilling from my lips in ways they'd never slipped before. It seemed I was channeling my mother somehow as my Castilian and English mixed into a melody of sweetness and comfort. My mother had not been one of the nicest women alive but she'd always been exceptionally soothing in times of trouble. I'd always been gently cajoled out of sickness and kindly encouraged out of tears when hurt. And I found myself slipping into that same gentle style as I wiped the sweat from the Deatheaters brow and brought him back to reality. His eyes would slowly lose that glaze of fear and he would lay back, exhaustion soaking his limbs, peering at me through his lashes. I couldn't tell if he recognized me or not. His eyes, still heavily bruised were unreadable.

It was hard looking at his face. I'd seen him in the wizard newspapers Albus would occasionally leave behind. His flawless features sharply lit, the high cheekbones and Roman nose in contrast to the curved and sensual mouth. He'd usually be pictured striding menacingly or glaring at the camera with a look of seething arrogance and thinly veiled contempt. His hair spread like wings behind him. He seemed like a brilliant peacock amidst a gaggle of geese. A peacock with fangs and claws, that is. A man to be feared and hated. But that's not how I remembered him. The Lucius I had met was surprisingly gentle and caring. It seemed like a lifetime ago but it had only been a year since I'd crossed paths with the much maligned Deatheater.


End file.
